


I Just Want To Talk To You

by Geometric_Wallcalendar



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Explicit Language, Fluff, High School/Secondary College, M/M, Smut - Later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:35:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1900881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geometric_Wallcalendar/pseuds/Geometric_Wallcalendar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not easy being alone your whole school life, it looks so easy to walk up and make a friend but it isn't. When you constantly make a fool of yourself around someone you admrire and they don't care it makes you feel better, and that's how you know you've made a bestfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How can I approach someone like you?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first story and I'm up for criticism so just leave a note and junk. I honestly don't know the quality but hey. If you want more then leave me a note or something otherwise i'll probably stop and delete it. Thank you for stopping by :)

                The last of the dull grey smoke drifted up slowly from Guy-Man’s mouth. He crushed out the cigarette on one of the red bricks of the school building and turned on his heels, heading for the two large wrought iron gates. He scooped up his books from his locker and filed through the wide corridors to his first class, lining up at the back of the line. _Physics. Ugh, I hate physics._

                 They filed in to the classroom, friends rushing to sit next to each other and reminisce about what they did in the holidays. Guy walked to his usual seat at the back of the class as if nothing had changed. Year 12 was no different from the other years to him, he was here to learn and he could easily ignore their petty banter about him.

                 Guy rubbed his eyes and flicked his hair to one side in a fruitless effort to wake himself up. The teacher rattled on about acoustic impedance, scribbling on the whiteboard and hushing students that talked. Guy laughed to himself at the continual red that crept on to his teachers face whenever he would have to turn and hush the class. He noticed one student that was taking notes. He felt his palms go sweaty and he quickly averted his eyes. Ever since his first day at Lycee he had wanted to talk to him but never had the courage. He just seemed so cool, he always talked about music in a way Guy had never seen before, carefully accenting his words with hand movements to make up for his stutter.

                 Guy rubbed his pocket making sure the disc was still there. This was the day he was going to talk to him, ask him if they could hang out sometime. He smiled to himself and silently rehearsed how the meeting would go.

                 “…Guillaume?” Guy looked up to the front of the class where the teacher stood, impatiently rubbing his hands together.

                 “I’m sorry… what?” Guy looked down as students began to sicker at his inattentive response.

                 “What is the formula for acoustic impedance?” He repeated crossing his arms and glaring at two young girls who cackled at the front of class. Thomas turned back and looked at Guy awaiting his response. Guy looked up at the teacher then to Thomas. Thomas smiled and mouthed the answer, perhaps too eagerly as a large grin had found itself upon his face.

                  “Z = p by v?” Guy shrugged and sunk into his seat, arms firmly crossed against his torso, eyes focussed on the floor.

                  “Did you read that from your book or did you know?” The teacher asked pushing his thick glasses farther up his nose.

                  “I… I knew it…” The teacher snorted and turned back to the whiteboard. _Crisis averted…_ he thought to himself, not willing to look back at the whiteboard.

 

 

                 Guy walked hastily down the corridor. Fuck, he really needed a cigarette, his hands were shaking and he found himself light headed. He walked out into the fresh air, the cool wind blowing his shoulder length bistre hair from his face. He shoved the cigarette in between his lips and shrouded the end with his unsteady hand as he lit it. He instantly felt calmer as he inhaled his first breath of the rich smoke. He shoved his free hand in his pocket and leant on the cool wall, quietly observing the school ground. The cliques were obvious, you had average people, ‘nerds’, popular men and women, sporty people and the occasional outcast which was his group. He spotted Thomas sitting alone on a table, eating a sandwich.

                  Guy swallowed hard, crushed out his cigarette and wandered in the direction of Thomas, his free hand fidgeting with a tuft of hair. His stomach churned as he slowly approached Thomas. He stopped when a man sat down next to Thomas and patted him on the back. He had scraggy black hair and looked like a well-dressed hobo. Guy slowly turned to walk away, trying hard not to draw any attention to himself, regretting his decision to approach Thomas. He patted the CD in his pocket and began to walk away quickly.

                 He felt a hard blow in the back of his head, catching him off guard and sending him to the ground. His hand struggled to free itself from his jean pockets and he landed hard on his free wrist before hitting his head on the ground. He rolled over and sat up, cradling his right wrist. He looked up to see one of the sporty guys walking up and picking up the ball. They all roared with ugly laughter at Guy as he sat on the ground, bits of dirt and twig sticking on his face and in his hair.

                 “You got a little something bro,” the man said as he wiped his face to show Guy-Man where it was before laughing and walking away without so much as a hint of an apology. Guy felt his eyes water as the pain in his wrist grew. He struggled to his feet and brushed himself off before returning to the corridors of the school and to his locker. He pulled out the CD and cursed. _Fuck them, fuck this school, and fuck him!_ He paused and shook his head, pulling out a permanent marker from his pencil case and scrawling with his left hand:

                “ _Dear Thomas, hope you enjoy. – Guy-Man.”_

                  He shoved it in Thomas’s locker before heading to the nurse.


	2. Ville de l'Amour

                 Julian burst through the door of Thomas’s room, cheeks puffed out like a nut hoarding squirrel thanks to a chocolate cookie. Thomas jumped in his seat, giving a half-hearted scream and knocking a stack of homework sheets onto the floor. He leaned across the desk and paused the loud music. “What the h-hell? Who let you in?” Thomas tried to hold back a smile at his friend but failed. Julian clapped his hands together loudly and walked over, a familiar bounce to his step.

                “Your dear mother, she’s such a nice lady,” Julian said through a mouthful of cookie giving him a slight lisp. Thomas laughed and face palmed. Julian lay back on Thomas’s bed and picked up a nearby book. “ _Magician_ is that like Garcimore?” Thomas rolled his eyes and ignored Julian. “What was that shit anyway?” He asked before throwing his sunglasses to his side.

                “It was j-just a mixtape,” Thomas smiled and looked to the floor, struggling to fight the urge to fidget.

                “Just a mixtape? Nah, not with that look… Who was it from?” He asked craning in neck to look over the footboard. Thomas picked up the CD case and chucked it to Julian, who let it hit him in the chin without flinching.

                “Dunno,” Thomas turned back to the stereo and turned it off. Julian squinted at the messy writing.

                “Definitely, dead or maybe orange… Mops we enrol…? Amen?” Julian sighed and threw the CD case back to Thomas, “is this some type of prayer? Are you in a cult?” Julian ruffled his thick black hair before scooting his hand under the back of his head. Thomas laughed and put the CD away with his numerous others.

                “No it is not a prayer and I like that kind of music,” Thomas leant over to Julian and swiped the book off him, placing it on his desk. Julian looked up at Thomas who stared out the window, the shadow of raindrops decorating Thomas’s wooden desk. Julian faced the roof again, admiring the posters stuck to it.

                “Want to see a movie?” Julian blurted out. Thomas jumped again and groaned.

                “In this weather?” Thomas whined, staring out into the grey clouds that shadowed Paris.

                “Face it; you can’t resist seeing a movie.” Julian stated, jumping off the bed and offering his arm. Thomas smiled and pushed him away and walked to the doorway.

                “Mum, I’m going out to a movie with Julian,” he yelled before turning to face his smirking friend, “I hate you.”

 

 

                Guy walked through the familiar corridors the smells of fruity perfumes were stronger than usual with everyone smelling like wet dog. Guy waited outside one of the classrooms early, eager to end the day. Among the undertone of voices Guy noticed his favourite song being hummed. He looked toward the source and smiled. Thomas stood opposite him muttering to Julian.

                “You liked it?” Thomas turned absently to Guy, still looking and talking to Julian.

                “What?” Thomas finally responded. He paused, slightly shocked that it was Guy-Man who had spoken.

“The mix,” Guy confirmed Thomas’s suspicion. Guy bit at his bottom lip and flicked his hair to hide his face from Julian.

                “I couldn’t read the n-note. I really liked it, some nice beats y’know,” Thomas looked down and winced, “hey is your wrist broken?”

                “Yeah,” Guy nodded and looked down at the plaster cast.

                “You fell pr-pretty hard…” Julian clapped loudly, gaining their attention.

                “Class,” he stated before walking away. Guy kicked at the floor as Thomas scratched his scalp.

                “Do you want… uh, my numb-”

                “Sure,” Guy gritted his teeth. _Great. Don’t try and be subtle._ Thomas felt his breath catch in his throat, had he just made a new friend? He pulled out a black marker from his pencil case and wrote it down in Guy’s book.

                “Could I-I sign your c-cast?” Thomas asked quickly, Guy just nodded. Thomas wrote his name and drew an odd smiley next to it. He zipped his pencil case up, admiring his work. Guy smiled and muttered a thank you before heading to class.

 

 

                 Guy pulled into his driveway and parked his motorbike in the large garage. He sat his helmet down and sighed. _What a day!_ He rubbed his wrist which had been aggravated by the vibrations from the bike. He slowly made his way into his glamorous house. He was greeted by Paul who lounged lazily on the couch with his laptop on his knee.

                 “Mums out, dads on business, food in fridge… I think that’s it,” Paul closed the lid on his laptop and peeled himself off the couch.

                 “How’d you get out of school today?” Guy-Man walked into the kitchen and grabbed out a stick of celery to eat before sitting on the bench.

                 “Didn’t you hear, apparently I am suspended,” Paul joined his brother in the kitchen, searching through the fridge.

                 “No way, for what?” Guy took a bite of celery and took out his phone.

                 “I called Mr. Boulland a roley poley bush pig or some shit,” Paul took out a can of soft drink and cracked it open.

                 “He is though,” Guy added before hopping down, “I have homework, don’t be too loud,” he grabbed a glass of water and headed up the stairs to his room.

                 “Loud? Me?” Paul shouted after Guy, proving his point.

 

                 Guy-Man shut the door to his bedroom, threw his bag on his bed and tossed off his pants, happy to be home. He looked at his cast and smiled at the poorly drawn smiley. Guy opened his window and; the rain had eased so he figured it was safe for him to light up a smoke by it. He drew in breath after breath of the cigarette until he got the taste of burning filter. Guy got up from his window sill slowly; he knew exactly what he was putting off. He opened his contacts and scrolled to the name Thomas. _Just do it, how can’t make that much of a fool of yourself with one message._

                 Guy : Hey

                 Thomas : Hello, who is this?

                 Guy : oh, it’s Guy-Man.

                 Thomas : J hey then. Get me on skype, I don’t have much credit. TBang

                 Guy : k

Guy opened his laptop and searched the name TBang. Surely enough Thomas’s picture came up; Guy opened it and added him.

                 TBang : Cool, hang on a sec.

Guy sat cross legged on the bed and tied up his hair, scrolling through some digital art while he waited. Guy answered the call, unaware that it was video.

                 “Hey, how are you? I like your hair,” Guy jumped and maximised the window.

                 “Oh, hey. I’m okay,” The two shared an awkward silence before Thomas suggested they talk about music. Five hours and many different topics later they decided to retire. Guy-Man smiled to himself as he lay back in bed. He was so glad that he had found someone who shared his enthusiasm for music, unaware that Thomas felt the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, thank you all so much for the encouraging messages, you guys are too kind :)  
> Don't forget if you think I can improve on any parts just tell me :)


	3. actually not a chapeter

Okay hello :)  
firstly I am sooo sorry for putting this on hiatus for so long but I had a lot going on. VCE and all that horrible stuff.  
For the good news, I am officially going to take this off hiatus somewhere during the next week and I have quite a lot to write.  
thank you for your kudos and encouragement, you all rock and I am sorry again :l.


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